Poems

Re: Beautiful Haiku, HAP

HAP — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 09:28:48 GMT

Thanks Denny.

Re: "The Playful Wind" - comments ?

denny — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 09:09:23 GMT

d;-)

Beautiful Haiku, HAP

denny — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 15:46:19 GMT

Beautiful
Buttoning up the garden
Black-Eyed Susan

I really like that.

d;-)

You should definitely write about that tree house . .

denny — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 15:51:24 GMT

GG and I planted flowers the other day as well. Annuals - for the color they add to the backyard. They won't last, of course. They will be gone with the coming of the Winter - like us as we approach our own Winter. But for now - they make life more beautiful.

d;-)

But, of course HAP - it's not about the wind at all

denny — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 15:46:49 GMT

It's a poem about poems and poets There is no wind, we can never really see the wind - only what it does. And even what it does, are creations of the mind - imaginary things -

like the silent whispers
escaping from our heart

Glad you enjoyed it nearly as much as I enjoyed writing it.

d;-)

Re: "The Playful Wind" - comments ?

HAP — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 14:43:22 GMT

Hi Denny, I thought that was beautiful, nice job. I often watch the wind move a certain tree’s leaves, and sometimes its branches. It is directly across the street (well, somewhat to the right). It harbors a huge tree house, which is barely visible because of the tree’s crown. There are some things about that house, and the people who live there, I have often thought about writing about. Good things. A young blind man lives there, and a large family.

Yesterday, we planted some flowers in our garden. Mom picked them out at Home Depot.

Beautiful

Buttoning up the garden

Black-Eyed Susan

"The Playful Wind" - comments ?

denny — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 07:12:07 GMT

The Playful Wind

Sometimes I sit and watch
the wind have its way with
the trees outside my house.
blowing the leaves
into billowy curtains
or shimmering like sequins
on a festive dance dress

Of course, you cannot see the wind
only what it does to things
the delight it takes, sneaking up on flags
then suddenly snapping them to attention.
Or swirling dust and debris about
turning them into miniature tornadoes.

And how it shapes the clouds
into a menagerie of circus animals
parading playfully across the sky
delighting the child in each of us.
Like foam floating in thin air
high-flying balls of fluff
dandelions taken flight

And what is the wind with
it’s murmurring through the trees
if not like the silent whispers
escaping from our heart carrying
our joyful song aloft.

d;-)